On Saturday, my short and fleshy friend, Portia, whom I hadn’t seen in a while passed by our home on her way from a wedding. There was so much to laugh about.
From the brim of her hat which was wider than the straw ones worn by market women, to her heel which got broken at the reception, to her jalopy which kept abandoning her in the middle of the road … we had a good laugh.
You know women. Our chat wouldn’t have been complete without a discussion on the bride’s gown. But Portia has this habit of winding information around till she arouses one’s suspense levels, before landing with the real info. So for quizzing her on the description of the bride’s gown, this was what ensued:
“Ablah, the wedding was lavish. The décor alone wouldn’t cost less than GH¢10,000.” “Ten thou what?” I asked, sounding very surprised. “Ei, these days, those decorators make a lot of money ooo”, she said, astonished at my unawareness of the issue. “But that much?” I asked.
“Ablah, it would have been a well deserved charge on the part of the decorator. The whole ceremony took place on a fluffy artificial lawn in the bride’s parents’ home.” “Artificial lawn?” I asked.
“Ablah, you don’t seem to be abreast of decors of today. The terrain in that house used to be steeply sloped and rough with gravels; very unsuitable for a wedding. But I hear the bride’s father hired a caterpillar to level the entire land into one flat space just for the purpose.
These days, there are people who rent carpets which are like grass. The entire space was filled with this carpet. Oh the green hue was so beautiful.
What I even liked most was the way the decorator used white satin and organza material to erect a massive canopy above the many erected tall bamboo trunks which had been fixed at various points on the compound where we sat.
The person also did well with creeping artificial flowers which she wound around the bamboo shafts. Ooooo, and the way she had pinned balloons and plants to the roof above our heads!
It looked like a ceremony you would find happening in a telenovela. Soooooo beautiful. I mean, it was a real wedding”, she said, her shrill voice punching out her words insistently.
“Portia, so what style was the gown. Why this delay in the filla release ??”. “Oooo Ablah, s3 worzi agor reba wo fie a, mentu mirika nkehyian”. Literally translates as “when the drumming is being brought to your house, don’t rush out to meet it”. Portia wanted me to be patient because she was saving the best for last.
Then instead of answering my question, she went on to talk about how solemn the whole ambience was; how the organist skillfully played the hymn, Love Divine All Loves Excelling; and how the bride’s father wept during a greater part of the ceremony (she was his last daughter and had grown very close to her over the years).
“Ablah, I was very impressed with the prompt start of the programme. The ceremony itself was short and simple. Time on the invitation card was 10:00 a.m. By 9.30, giant screens which were mounted at the sides of the arch where the priest was to bless the marriage, was showing childhood to adulthood photos of the bride and groom- more like a documentary. It was so interesting”.
“Eigh, is that what is done these days at weddings? A documentary of the couple?” “Now that I know you don’t know what’s trending, I will be inviting you to certain events”, she said.
“Ablah, to your question. If I were the bride, I would have worn something less revealing – to cover this large bust of mine. But she didn’t. She wanted to be excessively sexy in her gown.
She wore a strapless kind. And indeed, the gown was beautiful and looked very expensive with all those diamond-like stones sparkling its length and breadth. She looked very sexy, offering us a great deal of cleavage and collar-bones to feast our eyes on”.
“So this was all there was to the gown and you kept me in suspense for this long?” I asked disappointment. “Ablah, no. I haven’t landed yet.
You see, all the while the ceremony was going on, the bride had clutched on to her beautiful bouquet as though the survival of her marriage depended absolutely on how firm she could hold on to the flowers.
Every now and then, I would see her trying to hold her bust area up and then she would chock the adjustment with the bouquet in a stylish way. I sat on the second row of the left aisle so I was privy to many happenings.
So came the time for the exchange of vows. That was when the priest announced that no one should troop forward to take photographs of the bride and groom. He didn’t want anyone to block anyone’s view.
When the bride stepped forward, she didn’t obviously have the support- the bouquet. She needed free hands and arms for the ring wearing. When they both stood facing each other, I noticed a change on the bride’s face. It wasn’t that of excitement. It was that of anxiety.
The groom was first to wear his bride the ring. When it was her turn to do same, I don’t really know what happened, whether she lost guard supporting her oversized bustier. In the process of saying her vows, the bustier dropped”.
“Whaaaaaat?” I yelled. “Oh yes. It dropped; oh it dropped well enough to expose both breasts and the strapless bra which obviously couldn’t hold their heavily sagging armies well.
Ablah, I have never witnessed such an embarrassing sight. You could hear the chorus oooooooooo, aaaaaagh, all over. It was so embarrassing. Those filming from afar had a good capture of the free show.
“Wow! That would be very shameful”, I said. “Don’t say. Being overly careful not to drop her husband’s ring, she tried to hold up the upper section of the gown with her left fingers. But I blame it on the maid of honour.
If she had been a bit smart, she could have seen the disaster coming. I had spotted this, minutes before it happened so I don’t know why she couldn’t discern that something of that sort was waiting to happen.”
“I am even surprised I haven’t received a WhatsApp message of the happening yet. I am sure the circulation of it will go viral, and somehow, I will get to watch it . Ablah, I will forward it to you as soon as it hits my phone”.
Oh women. Sometimes we worry ourselves. If you are as busty as I am, what business would you have wearing strapless clothes or gowns?
Fine, such styles flatter our upper torsos and appeal to our necklines. But are they for all bust types?
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